


Poetry

by connorsanto



Series: Details [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Mostly just boys being rowdy, Poetry, slight angst, slight sexual themes, the boys are 18 and have graduated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorsanto/pseuds/connorsanto
Summary: “Love is anterior to lifePosterior to deathInitial of creation, andThe exponent of breath.”- Emily Dickinson, 'Love', XXXVII (1924)
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Series: Details [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602175
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	Poetry

Connor had a habit of cracking jokes and acting like a complete _idiot_ when he was uncomfortable.   
Maybe it was to put off an apathetic air, like the current exchange didn’t matter to him in the least. Maybe it was just to make himself laugh - which happened often; Connor would say something that was truly, genuinely funny and he would laugh at it for minutes at a time.  
  
Whoever said it was unattractive to laugh at your own jokes has clearly never witnessed Connor doubled over, cackling, because he asked, “Why is _moose ‘moose’,_ but _goose_ _‘geese’?”_ _  
_  
Nonetheless, nonsense aside, Connor had tells for when he was uncomfortable.  
Cracking jokes or trying to lighten the mood; rubbing the back of his neck, raising his shoulders; rocking on his heels or bouncing his leg; particularly, playing with his own hair or adjusting his clothing. _  
_That’s part of where the braiding came from.  
Connor suddenly became very interested in braiding his own hair at the dinner table one night - namely, the first night Evan joined his family for dinner.   
_Connor, stop that,_ Larry chided, giving Connor a disapproving glare. _That’s not sanitary._ _  
_ _You don’t think my hair’s clean, Dad?_ Connor mumbled, continuing to braid. _Did you know I wash it every day?_ _  
_ _Really?_ Zoe asked, disbelieving.  
 _Yeah, I rub a little soap in there and then roll around in the dirt like a fucking animal._ _  
_Evan had stifled laughter in the form of a deep cough, promptly being patted on the back by Cynthia, who was under the impression he was choking on roasted chicken.  
Connor had tossed him a wry grin amidst pleas to _watch your language at the dinner table, Connor_ and _manners make the man, Connor._ _  
_ _  
_Connor was apprehensive and extremely guarded when they first talked.  
He and Evan met officially in class, over a creative writing project. It was hard for Evan to keep from staring, and that was back when they had just turned seventeen, still in school and still awkward and growing into themselves.  
Not that they still weren’t.  
Connor had introduced himself first - _a power move,_ he told Evan later - and held out his hand for Evan to shake. Being the anxious wreck Evan was, he quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and took it. Connor had a very firm handshake, and he looked intimidating as hell. Ornery, almost. But his other hand was shoved in his pocket and he’d rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment after they’d let go, as if he were pondering. He’d let his hair fall into his face (another nervous tic) before sitting down at the desk and pulling a creased sheet of notebook paper from his bag.   
  
Funny how things change.  
  
“Do you have yours?” Connor had asked, kind of smoothing out the paper on his desk and fiddling with his necklace - a pretty little shard of abalone on a hematite chain. He reluctantly handed his paper over, and even back before Evan could read Connor as accurately as he could now, he remembered him looking a little nervous.  
“Y-Yes,” Evan mumbled, pulling his out of a folder, immaculately neat and tidy.   
Connor’s project was visceral, a work of fiction that was dark and read sort of like a noir film. It wasn’t Evan’s genre but it was very impressive in craft itself and made it difficult to share his.  
“What do you think?”  
“Oh, it’s - it’s really good. It’s kinda like a spy movie.”  
“Are you gonna give me yours?”  
“I… I’m sorry, I just…”  
Evan remembered Connor looking extremely put out and snatching his paper back from Evan’s hands, giving him a paper cut across his fingers in the process.  
“It’s fine. You don’t have to.”  
  
Somehow, they’d recovered and started to talk more - and eventually, Evan _did_ share his project. Connor had looked impressed, almost. Brows raised slightly and his mouth set in a small, disbelieving pout.  
“Huh,” He mumbled, handing it back. No more was said without prompting.  
“Wh-What is it?” Evan asked, staring down at Connor’s boots.  
“It’s good.” Connor nodded, adjusting his jacket. “Pretty good.”  
An enormous sense of pride stayed with Evan for the rest of that day, and he noticed that Connor made more of an effort to find him and talk to him from then on.   
  
Connor appreciated when people showed him their vulnerability. He wouldn’t show his first, not usually, but when others let him see, he often returned the gesture in kind.   
  
There had been multiple, tiny braids mixed with Connor’s wavy strands when he’d asked Evan to Homecoming.   
He rocked on his heels, adjusted his shirt, looked off to the side often.   
“I was thinking,” He told Evan at lunch one day. “I was thinking about going to the dance.”  
“Hey, that’s cool,” Evan exclaimed. “You don’t seem like the type, but it’s good you’re doing more stuff.”  
“Yeah…” Connor trailed, messing with the hair ties on his wrist. “Hey, um. Evan.”  
“Uh-huh?”  
“I,” Connor gulped, audibly, and Evan looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that period. “I was wondering if you thought of going, too.” His shoulders were tense.   
“I… I don’t know. I don’t really have anybody to go with, so I’d probably just be -”  
“What about me?” Connor blurted, and Evan still kicked himself today for being so dense.   
“Huh?”  
  
Silence ensued.  
  
“Never mind. Forget it.” Connor went red and stomped off, back inside the lunchroom, and Evan was left to stand confused. Until 7th period, until he’d been poring over the interaction all day and realized suddenly.  
For the first time, Evan lied to a teacher. He’d raised his hand and asked to go to the restroom, that it was an emergency. As soon as he left the classroom he sprinted down the hall to the sociology classroom, where he could see Connor in the front row (where he’d been placed for disciplinary reasons) through the window in the door. He waited for Connor’s gaze to wander as he wrote a note; big, bold letters in Sharpie, one word.  
  
Their eyes met, and Connor looked nonplussed.  
Evan held up the note to the door, despite students looking his way and snickering.  
  
 ** _Yes_**   
  
Connor’s eyes had widened; his chin left his right hand and he turned to stare at Evan through the door, brows raised.  
Evan nodded quickly, widening his own eyes to somehow convey that _yes, I know what you meant now and yes, a million times yes, you’re so pretty and cool and I want to be your date._ _  
_Connor’s expression went from shock to a sort of quiet, triumphant glow - eyes narrowing, wry grin tugging the corners of his mouth. Evan beamed back at him.  
  
Evan got caught shortly after that, but it was only something to joke about later. _  
__  
_Connor was anything but nervous right now, curled up in a little reading nook he’d created in his room. He’d moved the furniture around since Evan had been here:  
 _Felt like the feng shui needed a little refreshing,_ Connor grinned.  
It was made up of bookshelves placed neatly on the corner of the wall; one above on a floating shelf and one on each wall - to the left and the right, spaced evenly around a beanbag chair with a blanket. There was even a tiny table in front, where Connor sat his coffee this morning.   
  
Connor always got sort of sleepy looking when he was supremely comfortable.   
Converse to how he usually was - tense and alert - his posture was relaxed, and he usually folded his leg to rest over the other. As always, his nose was buried in a book, and he stopped every few minutes to sip coffee.  
  
A cigarette rested snugly behind his left ear, tucked there with his hair.   
  
“So, how are the assorted poems of Emily Dickinson?” Evan asked quietly, not wanting to break the comfortable silence. He was spread out on Connor’s bed, scrolling idly through his phone.  
“Very beautiful,” Connor replied softly, his attention obviously captured in the words.   
“Read one to me?” Evan requested, wanting very much to hear Connor read. He had a natural iambic pentameter when reading poetry, and a smooth, animated speaking voice when reading fiction.   
  
“If you were coming in the fall,  
I’d brush the summer by  
With half a smile and half a spurn,  
As housewives do a fly.  
  
If I could see you in a year,  
I’d wind the months in balls,  
And put them each in separate drawers,  
Until their time befalls…”  
  
Connor trailed off, continuing to read in his head.   
Evan’s cheeks grew hot.   
“Did you purposely choose something romantic?”   
“Yes.”   
  
The silence continued, comfortable and soft and Evan was contented to silently rise from Connor’s bed and pad over to him, sitting down quietly in front of him and hoping he didn’t disturb him.   
Relaxed Connor, _completely_ relaxed, was a sight to behold, and Evan wouldn’t dream of throwing it out.   
Idly, as if it required no thought, Connor let one hand wander from the spine of the book and reached out to gently twist the short strands of Evan’s hair between his fingers. His eyes never left the pages; his expression (concentrated and thoughtful) never changed. Evan couldn’t help but let out a sigh and leaned back into the chair, twining his arm around Connor’s leg to press close.   
  
Ever so slightly, Connor’s mouth quirked into a smile.   
He continued to touch and pet Evan’s hair with a distracted hand.   
  
“I wish this never had to end,” Evan whispered into Connor’s thigh.   
“Why does it have to?” Connor murmured, turning a page.   
“Everything does.”   
  
“Look back on time with kindly eyes,  
He doubtless did his best;  
How softly sinks his trembling sun  
In human nature’s west.”  
  
Evan had to blink tears from his eyes, curling his face into Connor’s thigh and sniffling gently.  
“What’s got you so worried?” Connor murmured tenderly, and from his peripherals, Evan could see him set the book gently on the table. He couldn’t respond, because he didn’t really know. “Hm? There’s nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere. You know that.”  
  
Yes, Connor had his own fears. Abandonment ranked high on that list; once you had Connor, you had him until you left by your own volition. Evan knew that. He knew it, so why was he afraid?  
“I… I guess I just don’t want to get older. I don’t want to get busy; I don’t want to lose this.”  
“Just stay in this little room for forever?”  
“Yes.”  
“But then, how would you get anywhere else?”  
  
Evan couldn’t resist peering up into Connor’s eyes, over the top of his thigh. Connor tilted his head down at him, gave him a fond, almost amused smile, his eyes soft and gentle and understanding and _god,_ Evan did not want to lose this.  
“I don’t wanna go anywhere else.” Evan hiccuped, blinking back tears again.  
“What if we got busy and old and tired _together?_ Would you go anywhere with me? Would you follow me wherever I wanted to go, like I would follow _you?”_ _  
_ _  
_Connor truly did read his poetry, and it showed.  
  
 _“God, Connor -”_ _  
_“Would you?” No longer softly amused, Connor regarded him with a sober expression, as if he really was asking; as if it wasn’t rhetorical after all.  
“Yes,” Evan answered immediately, his eyes going wide with sincerity. “Of course.”  
“Do you promise?”  
  
A silence stretched, not because of any hesitation on Evan’s part, but because of how weighted the question was. Evan didn’t want to take it lightly; Connor definitely did not, Evan could see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw. There was fear there, anticipation, the very same as that lunch period during senior year.  
  
“Yes,” Evan whispered. “I promise.”  
  
Connor often looked further into things. Statements made in idle conversation; actions that others would think nothing of; answers to questions that, while somewhat significant for others, were weighted heavily for him; all of these small things affected Connor a little differently.  
  
On the surface, he was mostly solid - but on the inside, he was turbulent; feeling and thinking very intensely.   
  
Evan could see the relief wash over Connor like a wave. His eyes turned soft again, gentle with relaxation.  
“Then,” He murmured, picking up his book, soft hair falling over his shoulder. “I promise, too.”  
Evan settled back into his leg, resting his chin there and reaching out to playfully twist Connor’s hair around his fingers.   
“That’s kinda distracting,” Connor intoned, smile evident in his voice.  
“It’s meant to be,” Evan quipped, flicking the ends of Connor’s hair into his face. He sputtered when a strand caught at his lips.   
  
_“Okay,”_ Connor grinned, batting at Evan’s hand. _“Must_ you? Must you _always_ do this?”   
“I must. I need attention. You have to be done reading now.” Evan resorted to blowing Connor’s hair directly into his face in short, noisy bursts.   
_“Swear_ to god, Evan. I _will_ punch you. _Right_ in the goddamn face.”  
“Do it, pussy.” Evan snickered shyly, immediately yelping and making a mad dash away when Connor shot up out of his chair.  
“You _know_ I fucking will, you _absolute_ fucking shitsponge. Get over here and take your fucking punishment.”  
“Never,” Evan cried, shimmying halfway under the bed and promptly getting stuck, with only his ass and legs sticking out and _oh no,_ definitely not good.   
“Look at that,” Connor mused, giving Evan’s leg a gentle little kick with his boot. “All dressed up and nowhere to go.”  
“I swear to God, Connor.”  
Evan felt Connor’s boot situate _right_ across his ass and he yelped. “Connor! You fucking slut, you’d better not -”  
  
Connor leaned. Evan felt his weight shift.   
Connor lightly pressed his boot _directly_ between Evan’s legs, _just_ enough to hurt a teensy bit, earning him an indignant screech.  
“What’re you gonna do now? You’re stuck, huh?”   
“I’ll fucking _hurt_ you is what I’m gonna do!”  
“How? You’re immobilized. Completely at my mercy.”  
  
Words to make Evan melt if Connor’s boot wasn’t directly situated at a low pain level.   
  
“Fuuuuck. You.”  
Connor’s boot was removed and soon it was replaced by Connor’s entire weight straddling his ass. “Oh my fucking _god,_ you’re so heavy. Lose weight.”  
“If I lost any weight, I’d probably die. Plus, carbs are delicious. I’m gonna get super fat and sit on you and kill you _instantly.”_ He punctuated by bouncing lightly.   
“Get _off_ of me. I swear, you are _so_ dead when I get out of here.” As if to illustrate, Evan began to struggle, pushing forward with the palms of his hands against the carpet and gaining _no_ ground whatsoever.   
“You and what army? You’re, what, 5’4” and 110lbs, soaked?”   
“115, thank you very much.”   
“Oh, ‘scuse me. 115.”  
  
Evan made another attempt to escape, only to quickly raise his head and thump it on the bars of Connor’s bed frame with a resounding _clang._  
“Oh my _god!”_ Evan cried. _“Okay!_ _Okay,_ let me out! That _hurt!_ I’m done!”  
Connor clambered off of him and pulled him out by his hips, snickering all the while.  
“You okay?” Connor looked down at him, grinning widely and laughing, eyes alight. It would almost be very handsome, _almost,_ if Evan wasn’t completely exasperated.   
“I’m fine!” Evan shouted, clutching his forehead. Connor leaned and ever so tenderly kissed it, lingering for a short time before giving his hair an affectionate ruffle.  
  
Alright, maybe a _little_ handsome.   
  
Evan rolled onto his back and couldn’t help it anymore; he had to burst into giggles, grasping Connor’s hoodie at the chest. Connor only continued to stare down at him fondly, watching, with a soft smile.  
“You were wrong,” He murmured affectionately.  
“Wh-What?” Evan asked between bouts of laughter, only for it to subside at the expression on Connor’s face.  
“You were wrong,” Connor repeated, stroking Evan’s cheek feather light. “It’s not gonna end. Not everything does. Some things go on for forever.”   
Evan gazed up at him silently, almost mystified.  
  
“Love is anterior to life  
Posterior to death  
Initial of creation, and  
The exponent of breath.”  
  
Connor sighed softly, leaning down to kiss Evan’s cheek tenderly.  
“Some things can last.”  
  
Evan didn’t doubt that at all.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> my boys have issues but theyre workin through them together  
> leave a comment if u like, means a lot as always


End file.
